


So You Think You Know Them

by skinnycherries



Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: And Now For Something Completely Different, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-23
Updated: 2018-07-23
Packaged: 2019-06-15 00:43:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15401196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skinnycherries/pseuds/skinnycherries
Summary: What happens when a shipper falls into the rabbit hole.(In other words, it's a story about us)warning: not the usual VM narrative





	So You Think You Know Them

You see Them on tv and you're sure you'll recognize Them when They are on the street. You're not so sure if you'll scream, faint or just approach Them calmly with a handshake, saying: "I am your biggest fan."

After all you've been following Them for years. Or maybe, just a few months. They've been skating since They were seven and nine. They've been together for a long time, longer than you've ever been with someone. (Relatives don't count!) When They cried after winning the gold in Pyeonchang, you cried too. It was a bittersweet moment and They just had to share it with you.

Their Moulin Rouge routine became a staple for you. You play it on a loop at night. Not satisfied, you start searching for Their old videos. The routine that won Them a gold medal in Vancouver. That routine with the leg caress when They were teens. Those short skating instruction videos They taped when They were kids. Even interviews when They eye each other too much that They forgot their own answers. You're struck at one particular moment when you see Them kissing each other during practice. That's it, that's the proof: They love each other and They should be totally together.

You're hungry for more. You sign up for Twitter. Tumblr. Instagram. You make a playlist of Their songs on Spotify. You watch fan vids on You Tube. You get all the feels that you begin to follow Them virtually. Soon you got all these world clocks ticking in your cellphone: Canada, Korea, Japan, Belgium, Mexico. All those places that you cannot go because you live too far and the trips cost too much. 

You compensate by buying the things They endorse. However you cannot afford an Acura, the $135 Saffron Road skirt, or even the Hillberg and Berk jewelry because those things are just damn too expensive. The Nivea toiletries, though financially reachable, are not available where you live and so you are left with Starbucks. You start visiting your local Starbucks to order flat white.

You become a regular patron that the baristas now know your name, including one curly-haired customer with tortoise-rimmed glasses and a perennial backpack. He turns around from his laptop every time you come in to the cafe, always smiles at you when he catches your eye. But it's not the same. You want someone to look at you the way He looks at Her. Besides, curly-haired guy does not have hazel eyes.

You need to vent. They are slowly killing you with Their public displays of affection and Their constant denials. How can They be so blind to see They are made for each other. You scream to your therapist. "I don't get it. Why won't They admit they're together?"

"Let's not talk about them." Your therapist sighs. She's heard your rant about a thousand times. "How about you?"

"What about me?" you ask, surprised at the question. "All I want is for Them to admit it for the sake of my sanity."

Because for the countless times They denied being a couple--even Ellen could not make them crack--you simply don't believe Them. She licks Her lips while staring at Him during interviews. He kisses Her shoulder during group shots. What kind of platonic partnership is that? You just have too many questions.

You imagine them sitting in your dining room over steaming cups of Starbucks brewed coffee while you pose your questions. Surely They will be honest with you---you are not a reporter, a blogger, and definitely not that crazed fan who @s Them at Twitter every time to scream "Get married!"

But you're a realist. You know you'll never get to see Them up close and personal. If only it's possible, you'll fly to Ilderton and stalk them. But the most you can do is livestream their performances in strange hours of the morning and you have raccoon eyes as proof. Starbucks has never been such a blessing because you just can't remember when was the last time you slept for a full eight hours like a child.

During one of your Starbucks coffee fixes you find curly-haired guy standing in line behind you. When he smiles, you think he's creepy. And when you start to place your order in the counter, he interjects: "Flat white again?"

"Oh no, no," you stammer. "Almond milk cappuccino."

His face falls, and you see him trying hard to pull it together. "Put in on me," he tells the barista with a wink. "Ben. Ben Mates."

The barista swoons but you're busy muttering thanks and running away after getting your cup. Curly hair is all wrong; you prefer Latch hair. However you do notice he has a nice butt. For a wild moment you think about carressing that butt, imagining that it was His, how it feels round and shapely under your hand. You are a VM stan of the worst kind--a Scott-slut if you will--and you feel guilty because He belongs to Her. 

You stamp your urge, because that is the life of a VM closet stan. Try as you can to convince your mother, your sister, your friends and co-workers to love Them as much as you do, they just don't get it. You only out yourself in the fandom, where they understand why you follow 20 other skaters, some Canadian musicians, a Vogue wedding event planner and a housewife in your Ig and Twitter fan accounts. Everybody feels angsty, fluffy or restless when you are feeling the same way too.

Unfortunately your therapist has had enough. You pay her to sympathize with you, even showing her video clips of Them but now she's become an enemy. "You're too obssessed with these people who are not even remotely related to you. Why does it matter whether they end up together or not? Admit to me: how deep have you gone in this hole?" Obviously a confession is in order. But you're not going to admit anything, because you know you're already deep shit in the rabbit hole when you searched for Their old coach Marina Zueva's 1978 skating program. 1978! Heck, you weren't even conceived yet!

Instead you tell your therapist: "They have an upcoming announcement to make this week. I'm sure They are going to admit that They're dating."

"What if they're not?" your therapist counters. "What if they just want to announce that they are retiring?"

It turns out your therapist was right. They announce Their retirement solemnly, while assuring fans that They will still be skating in shows for the next two years. It is not the news you hope it will be, and your feelings run from disappointment to frustration.

But wait...is that a ring? Holy Patchus She's sporting a dainty engagement diamond ring! It's definitely not a Hillberg and Berk ring and it's not her style either! No doubt about it--He bought it for Her in Antwerp. You're giddy now; it's a confirmation They're a couple. Now you can get your sanity back. Now you're sure you can sleep peacefully at night.

And you glance at your fingers. They look bare. They feel empty. Only then do you realize that the story they're telling, on and off the ice, isn't just about them. It's about you too.


End file.
